Sekrite is a girl with a voice in her head, a voice she has had since birth. When her village is encountered by a strange man, Sekrite's life changes forever, and she must embark on a journey with new found friends to stop a tyrant from ruling.
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Chapters:

Gasping in pain, the woman clutched her daughter
to her tightly, weeping openly as the snow started to fall on
them. The snow around the shivering pair was stained with blood,
a sign that this poorly clad woman had just given birth. A flimsy
blue cloak hung weakly around the both of them.

The babe fed greedily from her mother, mysterious
blue eyes seeming to big on her defenceless face. The brunette
woman winced in pain, and knew that she didn't have long to live.
She had outrun her fate far too long, now it was time for her to
leave this world, and join the Gods. Perhaps the almighty one
herself, Hagne, would be there waiting. Or perhaps there was
nothing.

Don't let these dark thoughts harm you now.
Thought the woman, as she rose
gradually to her feet. Wobbling slightly, she made off in no
particular direction, panting and clutching her daughter tightly,
desperately hoping that both would survive.

She could only hope.

The forest seemed to go on forever, twisted and
diverting, making her passage so much harder. Weariness started
to creep over her, and her almond shaped eyes were drooping, but
still, she carried on, clutching her feeding baby. Soon, the food
would run out, and if they could not find people, then her child
would perish in the cold.

Why had she run from her family and her village?
Why hadn't she just made the baby die in her womb, thus, it
wouldn't of been born. Her family were disgraced, she had
betrayed the Priestess', and she had put a bad word over her
village. What must people think of her; a tramp? Was it an act of
horror to fall in love?

But it did not matter anymore. The child's father
was dead. The child born. The village disgraced. And Daphne, the
poor, bullied Priestess, forced to give birth to her only child
in the wild.

Finally, when all her strength had gone, she
stumbled across the road. It was an unimpressive road that linked
the Northern villages of the land with the Capital, a relatively
insignificant town, really. The road was surrounded on either
side by thick forests, which would eventually thin out into a
tundra like surrounding. Potholes and erosion had taken hold on
this pitiful road, but to Daphne, its sight was like soft music
to her.

Her daughter had been silent for most of the
journey, occasionally feeding, but now, the child felt the cold,
and was tired. She started to wail miserably, tears trickling
down her small face. Daphne smiled warmly, and wrapped her snow
covered cloak around her child.

"Hush, my little one. You will be warm and safe
soon. Hush. . . " but even as she said that, a searing pain in
her stomach sent the former Priestess to her knees. The snow
clouds above were dark and foreboding, as if they were already
mourning a death to come. Luckily, the snow had ceased for the
time being.

Leaning against a tree, Daphne panted deeply, face
red with the strain. She shivered again, this time not with the
cold, or the lack of sunlight, but with fear. For she could hear
the faint, but unmistakable, sounds of a horse coming towards
them.

"Don't cry, please, darling, please don't cry,"
urged Daphne as she huddled behind a tree with her daughter. The
horse sounded even closer, and it was about to pass them. The
babe had been silent for a while, and as Daphne sensed the
horseman pass, she breathed a sigh of relief.

But then came a loud wail from her arms. A
snowflake had landed in the baby's eye, causing it to wail.
Nearly in tears, Daphne closed her eyes and prayed. She probably
doubted that this horseman was one from the stories, the ones
that murder innocent travellers, but could she afford to take
that risk?

A shadow fell over her, a man. She opened her eyes
and blinked slowly, cautiously up at the fur covered man. His
weary looking mare stood by near him, pawing at the ground
anxiously.

The man was fairly old, and most of his teeth were
missing. His skin was tanned and wrinkled, and his hands were
calloused and blistered, showing that he had to work hard to earn
a living. A not very welled trimmed beard clung to his chin, and
his bushy eyebrows gave him a stern appearance.

"Well, what do we have here?" spoke the man in a
gruff, yet strangely comforting deep voice. He bent next to
Daphne, and looked at the crying babe.

He looked back at Daphne. His eyes held
recognition. "Daphne?" he murmured softly. Daphne nodded, trying
to recall him. Suddenly, it clicked.

He was a craftsman from another village, who
sometimes came to her village to sell items. Daphne had
befriended him.

"I had heard about....." he trailed off, then got
to his feet. He walked over to his horse, and brought the sullen
mare over to Daphne.

"Come with me back to my village. You'll be safer
there." he was about to help Daphne up, when she shook her
head.

"No, I have to stay here...it is my time to leave
this world.....please, take my child," she weakly held out her
daughter, and the rugged man accepted it without question. It
would be foolish to argue with her.

The man mounted his horse, the babe still in his
arms. He wrapped her gently in some furs, then turned his head to
face the weak woman.

He blinked back a tear. " Daphne, w-w-what is your
child's name?" he glanced at the child briefly, then gasped
slightly as Daphne said.